Strong
by Socially Suicidal
Summary: The Sister fic of "Proud." This time, the young Kazekage reminds the foreign medic that, perhaps, he is not the only one guilty of lacking in self-awareness. K, One-Shot, GaaSaku


_Summary:_ The Sister fic of "Proud." This time, the young Kazekage reminds the foreign medic that, perhaps, he is not the only one guilty of lacking in self-awareness. K, One-Shot, GaaSaku

Strong

By: Socially Suicidal

**Disclaimer:** I do _not_ own Naruto.

The patient that had died in surgery was not the first life she had lost since she began working in Suna.

There had been many critical patients that had come in during her shifts that simply could not be saved, despite the best of her efforts and those of the co-workers she had come to work so well with.

Some of them were shinobi, others civilians, and she had mourned each of their deaths to the best of her ability - thinking of their names and faces every night before she fell asleep because during a hectic day in the hospital there simply wasn't any time for emotions like grief.

She knew only of the necessary efficiency of her job, the rush to get to patients in time, the pressure to figure out the best course of action to aid in their recovery, and, when she was lucky, that tiny moment of flooding relief she allowed herself when the patient began breathing again, or rose from the bed, or opened their eyes and smiled with the realization that they would be alright.

But today, today had been different. The life that had left the body of the patient on Sakura's table in that operating room was different than all the other deaths that had occurred under her healing hands in the past few months.

First off, the boy was a civilian.

But Sakura had lost civilians before.

He was a toddler. She wondered if he had even seen his fourth birthday before he died.

And she had lost children before.

He had wandered away from his family during a picnic, or so she had overheard after she had dragged her emotionally exhausted body out of the operating room and down the hallway, and had somehow gotten caught up in one of the small sandstorms that often plagued the barren lands to the west of the city.

Although, she had seen injuries like his before. The burns decorating the expanse of his tender flesh were no different than any other burns she had seen in her career, the strips of flesh missing from his tiny little arms that were the result of his trying to cover his face from the millions of grains tearing away at his face were pretty standard for patients caught in the wrath of a sandstorm.

He had been missing for hours before his family had begun the frantic search that ended with the recovering of his body in a dune after the area had been deemed safe for searching by the Kazekage. How could his parents have been so … oblivious? Their child was missing, for the love of all things, how could _hours_ have passed before they noticed his absence? What kind of parents were they?

Why were such horrible people allowed to bring children into the world? And now look. The child to whom they had granted life was being transferred to the morgue. Where were his mommy and daddy now? Where were they when he got first got lost?

In the end, it was not the toddler's assortment injuries that caused his barely beating heart to simply give up. Infection had a way of worming its nasty little self into the weakest of her patients. That and blood loss had proven too much for Sakura to handle and the child had flat-lined within an hour of being under her care.

She had barely had time to even attempt to save him.

The logical side of her brain gave way to the grief-stricken side that insisted this child was different than the other civilian children that she had lost. Sakura pushed into a vacant hospital room and slammed the door behind her, finally releasing the dry sob that had trapped itself in her throat.

How had this child affected her so? Perhaps it was the way he had been ignored, neglected, that stirred something deeper in her than she cared to admit. Perhaps it was the way he had reminded her of so many of her closest friends when they were of his age. She pushed the thought away roughly. A professional medic did not make such connections with her patients, much less with the Kages of the villages in which they were completing a mission.

Burying her face into one of her hands, the distraught pinkette tried desperately to think of what she had done wrong, what she could have done differently, what was it that she hadn't done that could have saved the life of a child? After a few moments of frantic brain-wracking, Sakura came to the conclusion she had been coming to since she was a genin.

She was weak. She had always been weak. She would always be weak.

That would never change; it never had a hope of changing. Six years of rigorous drilling and improving and crying from the sheer pain of her strenuous training had meant nothing to that little boy. He still died – his doctor being apprentice to the Godiame Hokage or not, his life had still ended. Thanks to her.

The sound of splintering wood was the only indication that the death grip she had on the table next to the door had broken it. Her weary mind coughed a mirthless chuckle at her inability to even keep a desk from falling apart. She let her hand fall to her side limply.

_Get a grip, Haruno_, she scolded herself, taking a few fortifying deep breaths and drying her eyes. She felt a wave of nausea hit her as she quietly exited the room and promptly pushed it down.

Sakura would have plenty of time to cry herself sick in bed once – she checked the time and noted that it was indeed the end of her shift - she had reported to the Kazekage. A good bout of wallowing would do her a world of good, or so she hoped. What did it matter, anyway? It wouldn't bring the boy back.

She ignored the stares of mixed sympathy and disgust that her disheveled appearance gained her as she briskly walked out of the hospital and onto the streets of Suna.

She deserved their disdain, after all.

* * *

Predictably, she found the redheaded shinobi placed eternally behind his desk and a pile of paperwork. He glanced up at her from his papers and she hoped her face didn't give away her weariness.

Gaara nodded to her and set his pen down, standing from his seat as he made his way to lean against the window sill in his office. Only once he had comfortably situated himself staring out of the vast window did he signal for her to delve into her report.

She spoke steadily until he asked the question that had caused the coiling of a tight mess of dread in the pit of her stomach since she had stepped into his office.

"What of the child that was recovered in the dunes today? You tended to him I assume?"

Swallowing thickly, Sakura averted her eyes and gave a curt nod, "Yes, he barely made it into surgery. I attempted to heal the more severe burns b-but…" she paused, clearing her throat, "I was unable to…"

She had only realized she trailed off when she heard the rustling of his robes as he turned from the window to face her. The medic glanced up at him to find herself pinned by his sea foam gaze.

"To what, Sakura?"

The pinkette avoided looking at him once more, whispering, more to herself than the Kage standing before her, "To save him." She turned her head in shame as she felt another sob slithering its way up her throat, "I was just… just too weak. He died because of…"

Sakura covered her face in shame. Was she really having a break down in front of the Kazekage? What would he think of her now? Of her village?

She truly was useless.

Long, pale fingers wrapped around her wrists, carefully pulling her hands from her face, "Look at me, Haruno," Gaara's quiet voice commanded, his tone authoritative despite the low volume. Sakura lifted her head slowly in submission, blinking away the moisture that had begun taking residence in her eyes. "Do you know how many lives you've saved here?"

Dumbly, she shook her head. He cut her off as her lips parted to protest.

"Neither do I."

She blinked, closing her mouth.

"There is no definite figure. The number of lives you've touched by teaching and working here couldn't possibly be counted, as some of those have yet to exist."

Gaara studied the effects of his words as her emerald eyes widened considerably. He could tell, by the far off look in the swimming orbs, she was considering the probability of what he had said. He knew with finality that it was truth. Couldn't she see that?

He jerked her forward gently and was rewarded as her attention focused solely on him once more, "So don't cry. Strong shinobi have no need for tears."

Sakura stared at the redhead before her, her breath caught in her throat as the meaning of his words sank deeper into her than he could have known. Did Gaara really think she was strong?

"A-alright," she murmured, eyes fixated on his own, lighter ones.

There was a fleeting touch that traced along her jawline before the Kazekage nodded and pulled away from her as quickly as he had approached.

"Thank you, Gaara…"


End file.
